An Angry husband, A Worried principal and A Violent father
by MentalistSweete
Summary: This is a fic, nearly centered on Patrick Jane and Angela Ruskin. The first three chapters will be about them growing up. Will later include the CBI. Rated T for drug use, swearing and violence.


A/N: The first is about the principal. WARNING: Main Character will be very OOC, but remember this is his past.

Patrick Jane is nine years old. He is torn up over his sister's death and is wreaking havoc at home. His dad sends him to school, third grade. It is near the end of October and he steps into the main office. He stares at his feet and hardly says a word while the principal finishes a meeting with the superintendent. The secretary smiles down at Patrick after constant shuffling.

"You a new kid, huh?" She pauses but he doesn't answer. "I'm Ms. Faring."

"Patrick." He softly speaks.

"Patrick." She repeats. "That's a nice name. Irish."

He nods. Just then, a nearby door swings open. Two men tower out. The one leaving hardly has any hair on his head. He is wearing a stiff suit and shiny un-scuffed shoes. The other is much skinnier and has a patch of jet-black hair absorbed in his top middle, but growing nowhere else. He has wrinkles in his neck and veins in his forehead. He also has bags under his red eyes. Still, the rest of his body makes him seem only in his twenties. The man waves Patrick in and he reluctantly forces his feet to obey.

"Patrick Jane, right?" The man behind the desk smiles. "Says here you won last year's spelling bee at Lavinrac Academy?"

Patrick mentally rolls his eyes at his dad's attempt at naming a school. 'Lavinrac' is just 'Carnival' spelled backward. He still doesn't look up. He sits in a big chair, hugging his backpack and dangling his feet.

"And you just covered cursive writing? Impressive." The man continues in a bogusly cheerful attitude. "Well, I hope you aren't too adjusted to private school life, Mr. Jane. Here's the time schedule." He hands the boy a piece of paper. "And here's a school map. You're in Mr. Kerba's class during morning classes and Miss Neytun's class in the afternoon."

Patrick hops down and swings his backpack on. He stares at the map for a moment, memorizes it then crumples it up. He lets it fall to the floor then quickly finds Mr. Kerba's class, room 42. He tries for the door but it doesn't budge. He continuously knocks until it is answered. A boy his height pulls it away, waits for Patrick to step through, and closes it.

The class is very quiet, with thirty-two eyes staring at him, plus the teacher's. The teacher pulls him aside, to a child-size podium up front. Patrick is tall for a third-grader and grimaces at the short height, since the rest comes down to his waist.

"Please, tell the class about yourself."

He shakes his head. A boy's voice is heard from the back.

"Are you a fifth grader?"

"Were you held back?" Another asks in a snooty tone.

"Mike Anderson is tall like you." The boy who answered the door speaks up.

"He means Mike the Snipe." A girl's voice appears from a middle seat. "He's a bully. Are you a bully?"

"Uh…" He speaks a little louder but not too much. "No, don't guess so and I don't know yet."

"You don't guess you were held back?" Mr. Kerba asks. "Your credentials show you held magnificent grades at your last Academy."

"Ooh! Academy!" The second kid shouts. "That's for smart people. You're not a bully. You're a nerd!"

"My dad lied." He speaks confidently finally.

"Your dad?" The teacher asks quizzically.

"I didn't go to a academy. Last year I was in a traveling diner for a circus in Texas."

With that, he sits down. There are only two seats available: one up front with the door kid and one in back with the teasing kid. He picks the back. The lesson begins. They are writing the cursive letter 'C.' Minutes later, Mr. Kerba asks for everyone to write five words in cursive that start with the letter 'C.'

Patrick thinks a moment, then writes 'carrot.' 'Cashew.' 'Clown.' 'China.' The teasing kid throws a few spitballs at Patrick and he finally swivels his head with a grimace.

"Look." He whispers, showing his paper. "Look. 'C' is for 'coward' like you."

"Thorn Lingob, quiet please." The teacher speaks calmly.

Patrick looks away as the kid starts writing again. His fists clench. His head hurts. More spitballs.

"Look. 'C' is for 'cow', cause your mama prob'ly is one."

Patrick sets his pencil down. He is unable to think straight, with only anger bubbling up. He has been trying to protect his mother for years. He's tried to protect his sister too, but that didn't happen. More spitballs.

"Look. 'C' is for 'carnival' cause you'll be nothing more than a dumb ol' carnival boy."

Anger surges through Patrick's body. He snatches his pencil and throws himself at the kid. A fight breaks out and desks are toppled. The tip of Patrick's pencil is inches away from the kid's eye when the teacher finally breaks them apart. The boys are sent to the principal's office, Mr. Kerba in tow.

Halfway there, the lunch bell rings. Thorn, makes a mad dash toward the gym. Patrick breaks away to the boy's bathroom. He climbs on top of the handicapped toilet and pulls himself through the window behind it. He starts running and Thorn comes into view. He runs onto the playground, which kindergarteners are occupying at the moment. Thorn shoves past them and toward the gates. This reminds Patrick of his father and sends him into turbo drive.

He avoids the little kids and catches up to Thorn as he reaches the gate. Patrick slams him into it and punches fly. Wrestling on the ground, the closest teacher tries to resolve it. She only ends up being hit it the head by a wild shoe. Thorn sends Patrick into the gate, giving him an extra scar. Patrick pushes back in rage. Soon, the gym coach arrives and keeps the boys at bay.

Thorn is sent to the nurse while Patrick visits the principal. Mr. Seymour Kredz, the principal, is not too happy to see his newest student in trouble. The man tries to reason with Patrick but he is much too stubborn to apologize. He opts for the detention. Patrick is then sent to the nurse. Instead, he makes a shortcut to the back alley of the school. There is a boy a little taller than him smoking a cigarette.

"Mike Anderson?" Patrick asks.

"Who's askin'?" the gruff kid looks the new boy up and down.

"Who cares?"

He takes that as an answer and hands Patrick a smoke. The boys duck behind the dumpster as Mr. Kredz and an administrator run past. Stepping out, he looks Patrick up and down.

"You in Sanders' class?"

He shakes his head. "Kerba's."

"Ain't that _fourth_ grade?" He asks in disgust.

"Third." Patrick steps up. "That a problem?"

"You got detention today?"

"Yeah."

"What for?"

"Fightin' in class."

"Nah, no problem."

At 2:30, Mike and Patrick walk down the hall. Buses are leaving and kids are running out. There is a large boy holding a much smaller boy above a bottom locker. The little one is the lofty kid from Patrick's class.

"Where's my money, Donald Duck?" He leers into the child's face.

"Um, my, my name my Doniphan Davidson." He mumbles.

"It'll be dead meat if you don't hand over my ten bucks."

The kid fishes the money out of his shirt pocket. The older boy snatches it away and lets the youngster drop. He scrambles to his feet and runs after his bus. The older one rams into Mike. He shoves him.

"Jake the Quake." Mike nods to the tower, really only half a foot taller than Patrick, as a means of introduction.

"He is Sanders' class?"

"Kerba's."

"You lettin' a _third_ grader hang?"

Patrick coughs a little and his lit cigarette tumbles out. The older boys are amazed as Patrick leads the way to detention, lit fuse in his mouth. Turning the corner, he almost runs into twin boys. They are not too tall but very muscular. They stand, unmoving, in front of the third grader. Not taking it as much of an obstacle, he just moves to the side. The one in all blue sticks out his foot, but Patrick just steps on it. The one in red steps out to shove the kid, but Patrick reacts quickly. He ducks and pushes the kid into the fire extinguisher on the wall. Jake slowly claps.

"Okay, newbie. You got the Lewinsky brothers."

The one in blue steps up. Luke. Luke the Fluke."

"Formerly Luke the Mooch. The one in red steps up. "Link the Jinx. Got you a name?"

"Uh, Patrick Jane." He stares back, slightly upset that he hasn't got a nickname.

As if reading his mind, Luke speaks up. "Alright. Jane the Pain."

The gang talks along the way to detention. Jane hides his cigarette under his tongue until he finds a seat far in the back. There is already a tall boy in back. He looks old enough to be in high school. While the others file in, the teacher up front notices the fumes. He marches up and snags it directly out of Jane's mouth.

"I know you fifth graders smoke, but would it trouble you to do it outside?"

"Third." Jane corrects.

"Excuse me?" He asks, annoyed.

"1, 2, 3." Jane counts on his fingers. "I am in _third_ grade. Not fifth. Who would wanna be a _fifth_ grader?" He uses the same disgusted voice others have used on him earlier.

"Oh, God, they're getting younger by the minute." He mutters to himself and walks back to the front.

The bell rings, at 2:45, for detention and any other after-school organizations. The teacher counts the students then lets out a dramatic sigh. There are six students and he checks his paper, seeing there should be seven. He starts to write the name of the missing person on the blackboard. A girl decked out in punk rock blasts through on her skateboard. She is jamming to a Walkman not yet in stores as she slides into a seat beside Patrick.

"Angela Rus-" The teacher starts.

"It's Li'l Annie, kay?" She groans. "Can you not get that through your thick, ugly toupee?"

He instinctively makes a move to adjust it and Link snickers. The man starts to leave and the boy who was there before anyone calls out.

"Hey, Asshole! You leavin'? Don't ya like us?"

"Last time, Mr. Spelling. It is Ass_istant_ Shole."

"Last time, Asshole. It is Spike. If _you_ get it right, _maybe_ I will."

Shole leaves the room and the kids start up again. Jane looks around to the others.

"Where'd _he_ go?"

"Teacher's lounge." Annie chuckles. "Why the hell would he wanna hang with rejects like us?" She pauses. "I know you."

Patrick stares back incredulously. She turns and sits on his desk staring closer in his eyes.

"Where were you last year? You didn't come here."

"No, I was in Louisiana."

"So was I. Traveling with my folks." She sneers then lets a soft smile escape. "C'mere."

She takes his hand and they quietly slip out. The two tiptoe down the hall and into a supply closet. She locks the door behind them and encourages him to sit beside her on the overturned garbage cans in back. He insecurely obliges.

"I'm nine."

"Nine-year-old fifth grader?"

"Third. In Miss Neytun's class. I'm never actually _in_ class, though. I'm Angela."

"Patrick."

She smiles and he really sees her cocoa brown eyes shine in the dim light. She reaches in her jacket pocket and removes a ticket to last year's carnival. Jane rolls his eyes.

"I read your mind? Told you your future?"

"No, Boy Wonder." She slightly shoves him. "I'm the Carousel Girl."

"On the other end of the ground." Patrick stands up and stares some more.

The Carousel Girl has long, blonde hair in curvy pigtails. She wears bright pastel colors, like yellow and orange. She spins on the top then loops down, bendier than a rattlesnake. This girl, Li'l Annie has shiny, choppy black hair. She is dressed like a mini biker. She rides on a skateboard late to incarceration.

"Why are you here?"

"Could ask you the same thing, Rebel." She laughs. "I first came here when I was five. Passed as a second-grader. Came again as a third-grader; seven and my parents pulled me into the carnie business. They let me come back because someone in a carnie family passed."

"My sister."

"Oh, wow… I am sorry, Patrick." They sit for a while and she turns back to him. "What name they give you?"

"Jane the Pain."

"Nice." She remarks. Her face quickly turns horrified. "Oh, God. _Alex Jane_ is your father?"

"Yeah, I'm not too happy about it, either."

"Do you have detention again tomorrow?" She decides it is a good time to change the subject.

"I have it all week." He assures her.

"Good." She smiles. "See you tomorrow."

Patrick looks down at the wristwatch his mom had given him earlier. It is nearly 3:30. He runs out of the closet and sneaks back into a random seat as the bell rings. Shole sticks his head in, mentally counts for absences and dismisses the lot.

The next day after school, Patrick meets up with Jake, Luke and Mike in the back of detention. Spike walks in, acting suspicious. Just as the bell rings, Link slips in, followed by Shole. He takes off his jacket and Annie rolls in on her board. He counts and leaves once more. Knowing the look on Spike's face, she smirks. Patrick also smirks, finding the smug grin on the kid's face.

"What'd'ya do?" He inquires.

"You'll see. And you'll be glad."

Several minutes later, a delivery boy appears in the doorway. "Hey, I got three large pizzas for an 'A. S. Shole'? This a joke?"

"No, my good man." Spike beams. "Got your cash right here."

Spike pulls out a hefty wallet and dotes out the right amount of cash, including a rather large tip. He also hands him a bus token.

"What's this for?"

"How'd you get here?"

"Bike, but… oh! Thanks, man!" He runs out.

"You did not pay with your own cash. Whose wallet?" Annie drawls out the obvious.

Spike makes a show of flashing the identification card. 'Abbott Shirley Stiles Shole.' Luke is thrown in a fit of laughter.

"He ain't an asshole," Link claps his hands. "He's just an asss!"

The kids split the pizza and enjoy detention. They have more pizza delivered on Wednesday. Thursday rolls around and everyone, including Annie, arrives early than Patrick. He gets there at 2:20, skipping out of the last fragment of class with the bathroom pass bit.

"How long'll you be here, at this school?" Link requests an answer.

"This year at least."

"A'ight, Jane the Pain. You smoke, you fight, let's get you in our, um, underground club."

"Club?"

"The CCC."

"Corpus Christi Criminals." Annie offers.

"What do you do?" He's got to know.

"We use our talents." Spike winks. "Spike the Swipe, Luke the Fluke… Get it?"

"Got it." Jane nods. "I'm in."

The Corpus Christi Criminals gain a new member. Detentions continue through the year, stopping for some ever so often. At some point, Spike confides to Patrick that he is, in fact, fourteen years old. A fourteen-year-old fifth grader. That's the CCC. A fourteen-year-old fifth grader, three twelve-year-old fifth graders, an eleven-year-old fifth grader and two nine-year-old third graders. By the end of the year, the CCC is aware both Jane the Pain and Li'l Annie live in a broken-down trailer park, filled with trashed Airstreams. Link, Luke and Spike are suspended. Jake is sent to a juvenile detention center in Dallas. Annie and Patrick are pulled from the school system. Lastly, Mike is put on house arrest. The CCC still remains in contact.


End file.
